


where do you go with your broken heart in tow

by yurishika



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yurishika/pseuds/yurishika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you know when to let go? And how do you move on without him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	where do you go with your broken heart in tow

**Author's Note:**

> \- This fic is inspired by the song [_Where Does the Good Go_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RDdmfWsrsw) by Tegan and Sara.  
>  \- Slightly based on real-life experience.  
> \- Thanks to Clemencio for being my beta.

_**Michael** _

Michael can’t decide which one he likes best—that empty feeling that everything that was good has been gone for good, or that empty feeling that the both of them are pretending that there’s still something (something good, something wonderful) that exists between them, when there isn’t.

He’s in a crowded room, with too many smiles and obligatory phrases and too many people saying he must be proud. Of course, he is. Yuzuru hasn’t just won _any_ award; this is something all amateur photographers long for. To be the youngest recipient of that award is no joke; this will open a lot of doors for Yuzuru.

He remembers when they were freshman in university, when Yuzuru, his senior, seemed too much like a prince from a fairy tale. He’s talented and perfect, and he’s everything he had wanted to be, and still wants to be. Back then Yuzuru would relentlessly take his camera everywhere, aiming for a shot at even the most mundane things because everyone should learn to appreciate the ordinary. Back then Michael had never done anything serious about photography, but even then, Yuzuru’s determination had been, and is—or should still be—incredible.

“Congratulations,” he says as applause surrounds them. Yuzuru kisses him—close-lipped and lacking warmth—before standing up to go and receive his award. Michael’s hands fall to his side as Yuzuru lets go.

Maybe they’re just tired. They’re in their third year of university and life has gotten busier now that they have more major subjects. They don’t even have the time to catch up on their own lives, so how would they have time for each other? Maybe Yuzuru thinks of the same thing, but if it’s true that they don’t have time for each other, why couldn’t they _try_?

Times together like dinners and watching television in Yuzuru’s condominium go by without conversation. When they take photos together, they’re no longer eager to share, to help direct, to laugh and get lost in the beauty of the ordinary and the extraordinary. Sometimes Michael would see Yuzuru standing beside him yet he feels like Yuzuru is far away from him. He chooses not to say anything and immerse in his own world as well.

After the awarding ceremony, they go out for drinks with Michael’s friends—Junehyoung, Jinseo, Haejin, and Soyoun. He mostly talks with Haejin and Soyoun, sometimes interrupted by Junehyoung, Soyoun’s boyfriend. Michael sometimes wonders how the two managed to stay together for so long; Junehyoung would rather curl up in his room marathon-ing JYJ videos while Soyoun wouldn’t mind heading out and exploring in quaint cafés, just because. But there Junehyoung goes, making some fandom-related inside joke, and Soyoun is laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. As he watches, Michael thinks that the mix of envy and affection he feels from watching the couple is more than anything he has felt from or about Yuzuru lately.

He catches Yuzuru looking at him. When he raises an eyebrow, Yuzuru responds with a smile. It isn’t the smile that used to make the world stop—or maybe because Michael no longer lets his world stop for Yuzuru.

Haejin is asking about his exhibit. “It will be in February,” he says. Haejin surprises him by asking if he’d mind being interviewed for her mock newspaper, a final requirement for a class. Michael blinks. “It’s not as if I’m the best campus photographer here.”

“Michael’s too modest,” Yuzuru says. He tells Haejin about how Michael’s photos are a work of art, and Michael doesn’t know if he’s succeeded in refraining from rolling his eyes. It’s not as if Yuzuru has managed a peek of the final photos to know if it’s good enough.

He excuses himself and heads outside, to get some fresh air. It’s a Friday, and university students are usually out in this area, eating or drinking the stress away. The streets are strangely empty, save for one other person, sipping quietly from his soda.

“It’s Sprite,” the other man says. “There’s a vending machine over there.”

Michael blinks; he must be staring long enough. The man further explains how soda’s his drug at the moment, as he’s finishing a final requirement, which is a pain but isn’t too bad. He’ll be going home in a bit, but he just needed to get out a bit, just for a temporary distraction.

It’s then that Michael remembers the other man, who had been awarded a week ago by the university for … graphic design? He offers his congratulations, to which the man responds with a sheepish smile. Michael can’t help but smile back.

He introduces himself. The might brightens. “I’ve seen your photos in the school paper!” He says he’s also seen Michael’s photos in some low-key magazine, and he’s done a couple of designs based on Michael’s previous work.

A little stunned and a lot touched, Michael leans forward and asks for the man’s name.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**Yuzuru** _

He’s losing Michael.

Yuzuru knows this; it isn’t exactly something new that’s only being brought into attention. He’s seen how Michael’s eyes would dull whenever they’d talk. He had noticed how their conversations no longer feel like they have some kind of thrill ride they can’t get out of once they step in. These days they’re lucky if they actually have a conversation at all, no silences drowned by the noise of video games or television, or the endless notifications from their phone reminding them of the endless to-do lists they have yet to accomplish.

It’s almost funny—not that he’s laughing—that the only reason he’s working harder than usual, that he’s done the work to produce everything he’s been awarded for, is because he’s avoiding the void that’s growing between them.

Michael has been quiet all evening, giving short and standard replies to all efforts of conversation. It’s obvious that Michael wanted to be anywhere but there. Just as it’s obvious that Michael is irritated that Yuzuru is talking about his exhibit, that Yuzuru is talking about it at all.

Now Michael is outside, chatting with some other man. Yuzuru only sees them from his view from the restaurant windows, but there’s a gaping pit of resignation already growing in him, even as jealousy comes. He wants to go over and do something, _anything_ , but he sees that Michael is leaning forward, indicating interest, and his head tilts back in laughter. Michael is _laughing_ , a sight he hasn’t seen in a long time, and suddenly all Yuzuru wishes is that he’s there and be the source of that laughter.

“You must be proud of Michael,” Haejin tells him.

_More than you can imagine._

There’s something about Michael’s photography that he can’t explain, no matter how hard he tries. He manages to capture the fragility of a moment, be it a shot of the recent student council elections or just a simple club event. But of course, when he captures strength, it’s unexpected, biding its time at the core of everything else. He’s drawn to that strength more than anything else—it’s so _Michael_ in its essence.

It’s true that he’s yet to look at the photos Michael will use for his exhibition. But he knows Michael’s advisor for the exhibition. But he’s heard enough of it to understand that Michael has outdone himself. He knows the kind of focus, the passion that Michael pours into his work. So if there isn’t much left for him, he understands.

Michael is so much more than just the two of them.

Michael doesn’t return to their table until much later. His mood seems to have gotten better; the corner of his lips are quirked slightly, and he’s trying not to smile too much but he’s failing. But there’s also a trace of unease in his eyes, and the pit in Yuzuru’s stomach deepens. Something has changed, and he isn’t sure he wants to know what it is.

They bid their friends goodbye, and Yuzuru waits for everyone but Michael to leave. “Do you want to take the long way home?” he asks. Taking the long way home wouldn’t delay everything by much, but it’s something.

He watches the hesitation flickering in Michael’s eyes, but Michael eventually nods in assent.

There’s nothing much to talk about as they walk home. They take the last bus, which stops twenty minutes away from Michael’s condominium. Yuzuru chooses a seat near the back, and Michael sits next to him.

Yuzuru murmurs an apology that Michael had to give up so much of his time that night, but Michael just shakes his head.

“It’s an important night,” Michael says, “I’m glad to have come along.”

He tells him about the man he was talking to outside the restaurant—Julian Yee, apparently; Yuzuru’s heard about the man, but they’ve never met. It’s obvious Michael likes him a lot. He talks faster when he talks about Julian, and he sounds more like the Michael Yuzuru used to know.

“Julian’s one of the most interesting people I’ve met,” Michael tells him.

He asks Michael what they talked about. Michael doesn’t look at him, and he takes a long time to answer. Yuzuru thinks that Michael isn’t going to, at first. A part of him is relieved, because maybe he isn’t losing Michael after all. Maybe all of this will blow over. But then Michael answers—he doesn’t remember what he said, and it doesn’t matter.

Yuzuru thinks of how he had been hoping that whatever they’re going through will tide over. He doesn’t know how much of this is true, but as they settle for the long ride home, Michael rests against Yuzuru, and Michael’s hand reaches for his. The way Michael holds him feels different, like Michael needs persuading that Yuzuru is really by his side. Yuzuru gives Michael’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Maybe what they have between them _is_ an emptiness. Lacking the initial feelings they once had, the blind admiration, the endless talks. But it isn’t something that can be filled again—there’s still respect, and knowing looks shared in crowded rooms. He’ll never be sure, because no one really is, but he’ll do his best with that they _do_ and _still_ have, which is more important than all the other things, anyway.

“It’s just different,” he says to Michael. “It doesn’t mean it’s not there.” It doesn’t mean he can let go, and not be broken.

Michael seems to understand, because he squeezes Yuzuru’s hand in return, and shifts closer.

It isn’t perfect, what they have, but it’s theirs—and it isn’t something they’re willing to give up on.

~終~


End file.
